Diary of RBG
by the-nerd-word
Summary: The tales of RBG in HamletMachine's Starfighter comic, based on diary entries written by Kurenai Tenka.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: This scene is based on the RBG diary entry written by Kurenai_Tenka, which is in turn based on HamletMachine's Starfighter comic. So many references, ah!

The diary entries can be found here: archiveofourown dot org/works/546855?view_full_work=true

I'm not sure how many of these I'll end up writing, but this was fun. C:

* * *

"Dear Diary,

Too hung-over to work. Aramis made me coffee before he left and he seemed sympathetic, but I could hear him laughing after he closed the door."

* * *

It took a moment for Bazin to register that he was awake, and the pounding headache that joined this realization made him instantly regret it. He put an arm over his eyes and groaned, wondering why he had ever let Keeler convince him to take that last shot … or the one before it, or the one before that.

"You going to be alright?" his fighter asked from somewhere across the small room.

Bazin lifted his arm enough to peer out with one bleary eye and grunted in response. He couldn't remember ever suffering through a hangover this bad before. Judging from the way Aramis was dressing, it was probably time to get ready for work, but moving felt a bit out of the question. At this rate … "I don't think I'm going to go in today."

Aramis nodded, looking sympathetic. "Best to just sleep that kind of thing off. I hope you don't get in trouble."

Bazin hoped so too, but Keeler had drunk just as much; the man would have to be inhuman to be moving around with his normal energy today. Belatedly, Bazin started to nod in response, but the motion produced a wave of nausea that had him retreating further into his blanket and groaning again.

He thought he heard Aramis chuckle, but it might have been his imagination.

"Anyway," the fighter began as he laced up his boots, "there's simulation work this afternoon, so I won't be back until after dinner. Think you'll survive on your own?"

"Mmph," was the muffled reply.

There were a few more noises as Aramis finished getting ready; the clink of something heavy, and the sound of running water. Bazin's strained mind couldn't help but focus on them. Despite feeling exhausted, the heavy pressure in his temples prevented him from slipping into sleep again. Just how many shots _had_ he taken? And what had been in them? "N'er 'rinkin' 'gain," he mumbled pathetically.

"What?" Aramis, who had just opened the door to leave, asked.

"Never drinking again," he repeated.

"Get some rest," Aramis suggested, and he sounded sincere. But as soon as Aramis was gone and the door was closed, Bazin could hear him laughing, and he knew he wasn't imagining it this time.

With not a little petulance, he decided that Aramis could go trip in the dining hall for laughing like that. Then he caught a whiff of coffee. His fighter must have made some for him before leaving. _That's really thoughtful_, Bazin thought, and smiled a little. He'd have to remember to-

Oh God, run, bathroom- don't puke on the floor, don't puke on the floor!


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: This scene is based on the RBG diary entry written by Kurenai_Tenka, which is in turn based on HamletMachine's Starfighter comic. So many references, ah!

The diary entries can be found here: archiveofourown dot org/works/546855?view_full_work=true

There was no way I could ignore this diary entry.

* * *

"Dear Diary,

Came into work unexpectedly early, I now know what that means."

* * *

The hallways were quiet this early in the morning. The few men who were awake kept their heads down and their steps focused, and Bazin appreciated the chance to collect his sleepy thoughts into one discernible direction without having to stop for conversation or sidestep handsy fighters. When he left the barracks, passed the mess hall and entered the navigators' station, the humming of the computers echoed the ship's ever-present purr; beyond the breath of machinery, all was silent.

Taking his customary seat, Bazin popped his knuckles and sighed. He was still behind in his work due to his morning hangover three days ago, so he figured he ought to catch up. Thanks to Aramis' light fit of snoring, Bazin had been wide away anyway.

He set to work, typing quickly as data sprung to life in a soft green glow in the air before him. Engine schematics and part configurations were slid to the side in order to reveal text, and underneath was the latest report he had been compiling.

As he typed, Bazin thought about Keeler's suggestion to go out for drinks again. The whole thing seemed a little absurd, especially after last time - even _thinking_ about downing shots made his head ache now - and Bazin wanted to politely decline, but Keeler had mentioned Abel. It wasn't obvious, was it? His crush? Why had Keeler mentioned the other navigator, and why had he suggested bringing Aramis along too? The whole situation was just bizarre, and hardly professional. And yet ... it was also enticing, in a way. Maybe.

He chewed on his lip as he continued pondering the idea. Did Abel like to drink? Bazin wasn't sure, and he wasn't about to randomly ask. He _did_ know that he didn't want to spend the next few days hearing Aramis laugh at him again, so he should probably apologize to Keeler and-

A small noise interrupted his train of thought. _A whine? _he wondered, peering over the rest of the computers. If one of the machines was overheating, he'd have to report it. They couldn't afford to lose any work time to a malfunction, and that definitely hadn't been a normal sound. But as Bazin looked around, all was quiet again.

Then he noticed that the door to the systems analysis room was cracked. Frowning, Bazin stood to go take a look. It had been a while since he last worked with those computers, but he should probably at least figure out what was wrong. He figured somebody had left too many programs running, and technology was nothing if not finicky.

But when Bazin opened the door, computers suddenly didn't seem all that interesting. His eyes fell to the tangle of limbs on the floor, to dark skin that complemented light, to sweaty chests that heaved as eager hips thrust. And between both writhing bodies was a spill of pale hair that was partially wavy when freed from its braid.

All at once, Bazin felt his stomach turn to ice and his face turn red with fire. Eyes wide, he mouthed the words _I'm sorry_ in humiliation as he spun on his heels and fled with as much dignity as a power walk would allow. Minutes later, he had his back pressed against his dorm door as he worriedly thought about what he had just seen.

"Bazin?" Aramis sat up from bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes and adjusting the tank top strap that had slipped over one well defined shoulder in the night. "What're you doing up so-?"

"I saw Keeler and Encke having sex," Bazin babbled.

"... Wait- what?"

"I saw them. Keeler and Encke. On the floor. Doing stuff. Sex."

Aramis waved a hand as if to slow Bazin down. "W-What did you do?"

"I apologized," Bazin said with a deep breath. "Sort of."

"What?"

"No noise came out."

"You ... " Aramis stared at him in silence for a moment, mouth open in surprise. Then he laughed.

Five minutes later, he was still laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes**: This scene is based on the RBG diary entry written by Kurenai_Tenka, which is in turn based on HamletMachine's Starfighter comic. So many references, ah!

Diary Entries: archiveofourown dot org/works/546855?view_full_work=true

* * *

Dear Diary,

Aramis keeps coming back early, he thinks I'm upset and in need of looking after or something. He really does act like my mother sometimes.

I kind of miss her, actually. I wonder when I'll be able to go home.

* * *

Tension hung heavily in their quarters, evident in narrowed eyes and hunched shoulders. The room was too quiet, and it was all Bazin could do to sit still. His hands tightened as indecision worked its way through his nerves and into the pit of his stomach. He glanced up and frowned when he caught Aramis' smirk, resenting the smug confidence he saw in that expression. Things were coming to an end between them; soon, one would have to walk away from this whole ordeal. Bazin just prayed it wouldn't be him.

He couldn't take it anymore. Finally, working up his courage, he opened his mouth to make a bet.

"Do you have any fours?"

Aramis let out a triumphant whoop. "Go fish!"

Hanging his head in defeat, Bazin drew from the few remaining cards between them, scowling when he saw the red little six he had been hoping for just a few minutes ago.

The smirk on Aramis' face was suddenly much more vicious. "Hand it over, sweet stuff."

Bazin held the card protectively to his chest. "Call the number," he said with suspicion, watching his fighter carefully.

Aramis leaned forward, meeting his navigator's stare. "Six," he ordered.

"How?" Bazin asked loudly. "_Every time_." He passed the card with a huff.

Aramis laughed and put the newly acquired six aside with its mates in a neat little pile; that made his seventh pile, compared to Bazin's three. "You're too easy," he said, rearranging his hand. "You don't even bother trying to hide your expressions. And, you know, it's just us, so ... It's basic memorization."

Bazin huffed again, but he smiled back. "I thought I was the navigator?" he teased, mock-rolling his eyes.

"Me too. Makes me nervous about your piloting capabilities. You're sure you remember how to fly, right?"

When Bazin threw his remaining cards at Aramis, the fighter only grinned. "Is that a no?"

"Say all you want," Bazin began as he gathered the deck, "I wasn't the one who shot myself in the foot during basic training, _fighter_."

"Hey!" Aramis exclaimed, laughing even as he blushed a little over the memory. "No fair. It was _one time, _and I was eighteen."

Bazin snorted, then added with a bit of serious contemplation, "I'm surprised they didn't send you straight home after that."

"Yeah, me too. I was an idiot."

Aramis could joke - and yeah, accidentally shooting himself had been pretty reckless and stupid - but the guy was a brilliant fighter. Bazin had a lot of respect for his friend's abilities, and his presence when facing the Colterons out in the black, cold pit of space was reassuring, to say the least. Even on board the Sleipnir, Aramis usually did pretty well in simulation and sparring exercises. He was never at the top, but he held his own. Especially during strategic offensive practices. Speaking of which ...

"I just realized, aren't you supposed to be in strategic training?" Bazin asked, glancing at the clock as he put the cards away.

Aramis shrugged and sat on his lower bunk. "Nah, I'll make it up."

For a moment, Bazin didn't say anything, just focused on folding the jacket he had carelessly tossed aside earlier. He knew what Aramis was doing; he knew the fighter was coming back early every evening because of the whole thing with Abel. It only made Bazin feel guilty and a little embarrassed, like he was moping after a high school crush and needed looking after. "You should probably go," he said at last. "You don't need to babysit me. I'll be fine on my own."

"Of course you will be," Aramis said easily, resting his elbows on his knees. "Doesn't mean I can't feel concern and stick around."

Bazin offered a small smile. "Thanks, but really. I just need to get over the whole thing."

Aramis shrugged, not wanting to encourage his navigator to give up but also not wanting Bazin to be stuck with disappointment. "I think you gave it an honest shot. Cain's a freak anyway. Probably best if you left them alone."

"Yeah, maybe." But it would be hard not to notice Abel everyday during work.

"Let's get some dinner," Aramis suggested as he stood and stretched.

"I'm not very hungry, to be honest."

His fighter scoffed. "You're skin and bones. You really need to eat more."

Bazin gave him a flat look. "Yes, _Mom_."

"I'm serious."

"Me too."

"Whatever."

Dinner wasn't half bad.


	4. Chapter 4

Notes:

This scene is based on the RBG diary entry written by Kurenai_Tenka, which is in turn based on HamletMachine's Starfighter comic. So many references, ah!

The diary entries can be found here: archiveofourown dot org/works/546855?view_full_work=true

* * *

Dear Diary,

It seems fairly likely that I have lost several years of my life from the sheer horror of today (or this month, possibly).

As it turns out, Cain actually does pay attention to what's going on around him, and was in fact fully aware that I was stalking him somewhat. In fact, he told me so; in detail, and whilst very close to my face.

Somehow this (very close) conversation/interrogation made a neat turn from me being some kind of scheming stalker to being…. Well, interested in something else entirely.

There is a chance that after he offered to fulfil this 'interest'; that I hit him with my clipboard and ran away. I am dearly hoping that this was an elaborate hallucination on my part (possibly brought on from a stealth attack by Keeler armed with shots, or from the shock of Abel professing his love); however I suspect that this is in fact not the case and I am, in fact, going to be killed.

Time to write that will I've been putting off, I suppose. Or maybe I can just take to following Aramis around 24/7.

* * *

It was day four, and not much had changed.

Cain and his blue-eyed minion were seated in the mess hall, drinking the sludge that was standard issue black coffee as they tossed smirks and colonial slang at other fighters and navigators. Well, Cain was doing all the talking. And the slandering. And the leering. Deimos mostly just laughed behind one of his slim hands while he ate in smug companionship.

They were like schoolyard bullies, Bazin reflected with a sigh. He looked down at his clipboard and frowned when he was reminded of yesterday's surveillance; the words "Cain Code" had been aggressively scribbled through with black ink, but he could still make out the impressions of the letters in the paper if he squinted.

Bland as it might be, the drifting smell of food from the mess hall suddenly made Bazin's stomach grumble. He took one last quick glance toward Menace and Slightly Lesser Menace before he turned on his heel and began the walk to the barracks. If he hurried, he'd be able to catch Aramis on his way from conditioning and they could go to lunch together. Bazin had noticed several navigators eating what looked like dry cranberry scones, and while that didn't exactly appeal to him, he just knew Aramis would love it, so he'd be sure to-

With a small jerk, Bazin felt himself pulled backward by a rough hand on his shoulder. "Not so fast, Snow White," he heard by his ear, and with a panicked flip of the stomach Bazin realized it was Cain.

Without bothering to be subtle, the worried navigator cast a look right and left, desperate to catch the eyes of someone who could read the _please save me_ light in his. However, much to his dismay, he realized the hallway was completely empty.

_There are hundreds of soldiers on this craft! How does this even happen?_

"I'm talking to you, so pay some attention," Cain said, sneering as he shoved Bazin toward a corner, trapping him with one hand flat against the wall.

_Oh my God, fate is a dark and angry Russian and it's conspiring against me._

"So," Cain began, licking away the remaining taste of his lunch from along his gum line. "Do you want to tell me why you've been following me?"

"Well, I just- I mean …"

Cain leaned in closer until their noses were nearly touching. He titled his head to one side, peering down at the navigator with a raised brow. "I'm getting impatient," he said quietly, almost in a murmur, and Bazin didn't mistake the predatory look in his eyes.

Clutching his clipboard to his chest in a protective gesture, Bazin cleared his throat and tried to ignore the way Cain's breath ghosted across his face. "I was only curious," he whispered nervously, not quite looking Cain in the eyes. "After the fight, I wondered-"

"Curious?" Cain repeated with a smirk, focusing on that word as he began to relax his posture into something more languid. He looked Bazin up and down, and the navigator could feel his face heating as his brain fired frantic synapses. "Mousey thing like you, I bet you'd be full of noisy surprises," Cain remarked.

Bazin's eyes widened, and he instinctively leaned away as much as he could, which wasn't nearly as much as he would've liked. He could practically see his reflection in the gleam of Cain's grin. "I think you have the wrong idea," he began.

"I don't believe I do. Relax, sweetheart. No need to look so cornered," Cain drawled.

Bazin's stomach began to flip in earnest, and his fingers hurt as he gripped his clipboard tighter. "But I am. And your face is so close to mine and-"

"Right?"

"-and could you please maybe take a few steps back if you don't mind?"

Cain laughed, and the sound was sharp and short. "Here's what we're going to do," he said, leaning in so that the tip of his nose brushed against Bazin's ear. "I'm going to take you to that supply closet down the hall, and I'm going to strip you down until you're positively shivering, and then I'm going to make you scream my name when I use a rag and my hand to-"

Bazin wasn't sure if it was a sudden wave of bravery or white-knuckled panic that led him to raise his clipboard. Either way, without quite thinking about what he was doing, he invested all of his strength into bringing the board down and across Cain's face. There was a satisfying smack as tool hit skin, and as the fighter stumbled back, Bazin thought he saw blood. He didn't, however, hang around to examine his work.

He had always claimed to be a poor runner, but he swore, right then, he friggin' _flew_.

Cain might have shouted something after him. Bazin might have shouted an apology back. Adrenaline made everything a little fuzzy.

When he finally made it to the safety of his room, he collapsed on his bed and struggled to catch his wind. Only seconds later, Aramis walked through the door.

"Aramis!" he cried in relief, sitting up as he tried to find the breath to form a coherent sentence. "Have to tell you … earlier … down by … mess hall … C-"

Aramis suddenly grinned. "Those cranberry scones!" he interjected, delighted. "Yeah, I heard about that. Thanks for the heads up! Let's go get some."

And with that, Bazin was convinced of the universe's conspiracy.

* * *

Notes:

my name is cain and i interrupt people lololololol

Sorry if this didn't live up to expectations; I've been the mother of all emotional wrecks lately. Huhuhu.


End file.
